


Nice To Meet You

by Numquam_satiabam



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fucking, Masks, Mina - Freeform, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bondage???, its henry cavill dammit, kinda???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numquam_satiabam/pseuds/Numquam_satiabam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mina</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice To Meet You

I rifled through the bin of comic books and memorabilia, grimacing, moving things out of the way before I finally found one of the books I was looking for, grinning triumphantly. I turned a little to quickly and slammed against a solid chest, bouncing backwards, yelping.

Two arms wrapped around me, one around my lower waist, the other hand splayed between my shoulder blades, keeping me from falling but catching me in a dip. I blinked and stared at the very large man who was holding me very closely.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling me up to stand straighter, voice deep and soothing.

It took me a moment to realize I hadn’t answered and my hands were still splayed on his chest, pressed against his pec muscles. I jerked my hands back, blushing, clearing my throat.

“Um, yes, I’m good thanks, sorry about that,” I cough, eyes locked on his blue ones, really the only thing I could make out with his face obscured by the mask. 

“No, it’s fine, I shouldn’t have been standing so close behind you,” he reassures me, hand moving from my back to my shoulder, my breath catching as his thumb casually stroked the hollow of my collarbone. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a booth selling some good clothing merch would you?”

I cleared my throat and glanced away for my own sanity before I gave myself an aneurism from staring at his biceps.

“Uh, there’s a few good ones, depending on what you’re looking for,” I offered, fingers messing around with the pages of the book I was holding nervously.

“Show me your favorite.” I couldn’t see his mouth behind the mask, but he sounded like he was smiling.

I should not be doing this.

I glanced subtly at his biceps again.

I was doing this. Fuck it all to hell.

“I guess I can do that, I mean, I don’t have anything better to do,” I replied, trying to play it cool, and I felt like I was failing miserably. I could practically feel his grin as he waited for me to pay before following me as I started to lead him across the convention center.

We’d only made it a few booths down when he took my hand, lacing our fingers.

“So I don’t get lost,” he replied cheekily, once again, making me feel like he was smiling at me. I tried to squelch the dark blush that rose to my cheeks and once again failed miserably. Goddamn his hands were fucking huge.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t fucking think about it.

I thought about it and blushed darker.

I thought maybe once I led him to the booth I’d be able to leave him and gain some of my sanity, and dignity because Jesus was I thirsty, back, but I wasn’t so lucky.

In fact, once I showed him the booth with shirts and hats and hoodies all displayed, he tugged me around, a thick muscled arm around my waist (God help me), holding things up to himself, asking me what I thought, before deciding on a few to buy.

Then, he insisted on holding shirts up to ME, saying how he thought this would look cute on me, and this would make me look adorable, which in itself pretty much killed me.

We ended up spending most of the day together, walking around the convention center, talking about movies and comics, pointing out our favorite characters and actors/actresses. We exchanged numbers and I giggled and didn’t even really notice how he never stopped holding my hand.

Ok, that’s a lie, I totally fucking noticed.

It was when I let him lead me off the floor, arm around my shoulders, that things started to escalate. I didn’t really notice where we were going, so invested in telling him about how 1: I so was not the only girl that was this invested in comics he just hadn’t looked hard enough and 2: costumes were as vital to movies as the actors in them because a shitty costume could ruin phenomenal acting when he led me into an empty room.

I found myself bent over a table, gasping as he pressed his chest against my back, warm lips mouthing my neck. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he growled, hands smoothing up the backs of my thighs, pushing my dress up to bunch around my waist. I tried to turn my head to look at him, but a hand held my face to the table.

“No,” he growled. “Face down. And I want you to grip the edge of the table with your hands. Don’t let go.”

I took a shuddering breath, doing as he said, eyes closing.

“Good girl.”

I felt him move, kneeling behind me, hands massaging the backs of my thighs before he rubbed the soaked crotch of my panties with the backs of his fingers.

“So wet for me,” he cooed. “How delicious.” He gently eased them down my legs, carefully helping me step from them without losing my position. The next thing I knew, he was eating me out, tongue buried in my cunt, chin rubbing deliciously against my clit as he groaned deeply, making my hips buck towards his face.

His hands held my thighs open, keeping my hips from rolling back against his mouth, needing more of everything. I moaned and whimpered, biting my lip as I writhed, hands clenching on the edge of the table, wanting to reach back and pull him closer by that goddamn curly hair but too afraid he would stop if I disobeyed him.  
“You make such sweet sounds for me,” he growled, sucking on my clit hard as he slid two fingers into me, curling them. “And so tight. Fucking perfect.”

I keened and squirmed harder, clenching over his fingers.

“Oh god, please, I need, I need to cum, please let me cum,” I whined, arms shaking.

“You can cum baby, whenever you’re ready, give it to me,” he purred, doubling his pace. It didn’t take long to have me shuddering, crying out as I came, bucking against his face as he groaned happily. 

He pulled away from me and I laid there panting, arms shaking. Then I was being turned, rolled onto my back as he stood between my legs, his jeans pushed down his thighs, cock hard and leaking as he pulled my legs up and over his shoulders. And he had that fucking mask on again.

Goddammit.

I choked on a moan as he slid into me slowly, making sure I felt every inch of him stretching me as he bottomed out. When his hands moved my arms back above my head, wrists locked in one of his big hands, I whimpered, unprepared for him to start thrusting hard and deep into me, grunting above me.

“Oh God,” I breathed, arching in his grip, pushing my hips towards him.

“You feel so perfect around my cock,” he grunted, rolling his hips. “So fucking wet. So hot. Fuck.” His free hand yanked the neckline of my dress down, the spaghetti straps snapping and the bust bunching beneath my breasts. His brushed his hand against one, palm rubbing against my nipple, teasing me as he chuckled.

“You’re so fucking perfect, just right,” he growled, groping at me as his hips picked up tempo, the sound of slapping skin echoing in the empty room.

“Right for what?” I whined, moaning with every thrust as my breath started to hitch.

“Right for me.”

I came hard around his thrusting cock, jerking in his arms as he threw his head back. I looked up at him as I spasmed around him, gasping as the mask tumbled off his head, his jaw clenched in pleasure, blue eyes darkened with lust.

When he came he growled deeply, leaning forward to kiss me roughly, hand cupping my cheek and holding me to him as his hips ground against mine, causing me to mewl in sensitivity.

We broke apart, panting, foreheads pressed against one another, chests brushing as we caught our breath. I searched his eyes, lips parting as he smiled blindingly down at me.

“Henry Cavill, nice to meet you,” he said charmingly. I swallowed thickly.

“Mina,” I replied, letting him help me up and off the table, attempting to fix my damaged dress. I gaped at him as he slide my panties into his jean pocket, smirking.

“So you’re still going to call me later right?” he asked cheekily.

I died.


End file.
